CHAPTER XXIII
A LEAP FOR LIFE
When Tim had ridden three or four miles farther, and felt at ease as faras the pursuers were concerned, he came upon the three stampeded horsesagain. They were peacefully browsing on some scanty herbage at theedge, quite content, no doubt, to be free from their human burdens. Atthe sound of the engine they once more took to flight, and the violentplay they made with their heels suggested to Tim that they indignantlyresented the disturbance of their meal.
He was now riding so fast that he could soon have overtaken the animals,in spite of the upward gradient. But if he did so, he would either runthe risk of coming into collision with one of them, or drive them overthe edge of the track on the left, and down the somewhat steep anddangerous slope to the river. It occurred to him that he might dobetter to moderate his pace and keep fairly close on their heels. Theymight prove useful. The cross-track to which he would come presentlywas somewhat looser than that on which he was riding. If the enemyhappened to be at the cross-roads beyond, the horses and the dust theyraised might serve him as a temporary screen. So he opened his airthrottle a little, and closed the petrol throttle to the same extent,maintaining a speed that would keep the horses on the run withoutexposing him to the risk of being overtaken.
He soon found that there was a certain disadvantage in following uponthe heels of the horses. On coming into the cross-track, he wasenveloped in a cloud of dust, thick enough to prevent his seeing morethan a few yards ahead. The dust and the bodies of the animalscompletely shut out the view, and he realised that as he neared the forkhe would be quite unable to tell what awaited him there. He thought itadvisable to drop a little behind. No doubt the horses would turn tothe left when they reached the crossroads, and gallop towards the Incacamp--the place which for some days past they had associated withfodder. If the enemy had not actually passed the fork and marched downthe eastern track, he might manage to turn into it unperceived undercover of the dust-cloud, and soon ride out of danger.
Slackening down until he had doubled his distance from the horses, henoticed on his right hand a belt of trees which, if his memory was notat fault, extended for nearly a mile along the southern edge of thecross-track until it joined the eastern path. With one eye on thehorses and the other on the trees he watched for the branching of thetracks. It came sooner than he expected. Suddenly the horses swerved tothe left; a few seconds afterwards he turned to the right, and felt themachine quicken under him on the downward incline.
At that instant he heard the loud crackle of rifles behind him. Postedamong the trees just above the fork there was a body of men who,watching with astonishment the maddened gallop of three riderlesshorses, caught a faint glimpse of the motor-cycle as it emerged from thewhirling dust. They fired too hurriedly to hit the mark. At the soundof the shots Tim bent double and let the machine go. Riding at the rateof thirty miles an hour he knew that the enemy could not catch him onhorseback on this particular portion of the track. But when he came tothe foot of the hill, and began to climb a long rise, he glanced roundand saw a large troop of horsemen dashing down in pursuit. They were along way behind, and unless some accident befell the machine, he wassure that he could outpace them with ease.
The track wound frequently. For long stretches he was hidden from thepursuers. Looking back now and then he noticed with satisfaction,whenever they came in sight, that he was steadily increasing theinterval between him and them. He might have run away altogether if hehad driven the machine at full speed; but the track was very rough, andhe felt that he must watch it carefully if he was to avoid the risk of asecond puncture, or of collision with some boulder. Downhill he oftenhad to check his pace, and so could not take full advantage of thedescents to give him impetus for the upward gradients of the switchback.But as mile after mile was covered he became less and less fearful ofbeing caught; and when, at the end of a long, straight stretch, he sawthat the enemy were at least two miles behind, he was perfectly easy inmind, and only wondered why they had not given up the hopeless chase.
His former journeys on this track had made him pretty familiar with thelandmarks, and as he rode up a long incline, he knew that he would soonbe in sight of the wooden bridge over the ravine, beyond which the partyof Japanese were posted. A few miles of switchback, and then he wouldhave a downward run home. But on rising slowly over the crest, he wasstaggered to see a troop of some twenty horsemen halted no more thanhalf a mile in front of him. The track dipped to within about a hundredyards of the spot where they were standing, then bent somewhat sharplyupwards, and disappeared over the brow rather more than half a mileahead.
Tim instantly realised the desperate position into which he had comeunawares. His first impulse was to screw on his brakes and dismount, toavoid rushing headlong among the enemy. But in a flash he saw that todo so would be simply to give himself into their hands, or into thehands of the men behind him. There was no escape either on the right orthe left. The only possible course was to ride on and take his chance.Setting his teeth, and crouching almost flat over the handle-bar, heopened the throttle, and shot down the hill, sounding his hooterviolently all the way.
If he had had the leisure to calculate the possible result he couldscarcely have anticipated the success of his action. The horsemeninstinctively edged away to the sides of the track, and on to the edgeof the rough moorland which bounded it on the east. Some had thepresence of mind to whip out their pistols, but as the cycle racedtowards them with ever-quickening speed they found themselves in troublewith their horses, which began to quiver and sweat and prance at thestrange sight and the terrifying sounds. Down flew the cycle, Timgripping the handle-bar hard, no longer able to pick his course, butkeeping the middle of the track, rough or smooth. He was unconscious ofjerks and jolts; blind to the risk of puncture; in that criticalhalf-minute he thought of nothing but the task of steering so as toavoid collision with the enemy, a disaster which they on their part wereno less anxious to escape.
He was upon them, in a whirl of dust raised by the wind of his flight.A thrill shot through every fibre as he skimmed danger by a hair'sbreadth. One of the horses was cavorting on his hind legs, and hisrider, almost as frantic as the animal, turned him into a whirligig byhard tugging at the bridle. A few shots were fired by the othertroopers, but no man could take steady aim from the back of a rearinghorse, at an object flashing by at forty miles an hour. With a rush anda whizz Tim was past.
But his momentary joy at having got through vanished as he felt theslackening of speed enforced by the steep incline beyond. On his formerjourney he had dismounted and wheeled the machine. There was a greathubbub behind him. The throbbing hum of his engine was smothered by theclatter of the horses' hoofs, and the yells of their riders spurringthem on. Short as the ascent was, its angle was so sharp as toneutralise in great measure the impetus he had gained downhill. Momentby moment the machine flagged, and, without looking behind, he wasconscious that the pursuers were gaining. He feared that his enginepower would not suffice to bring him to the top, upon which he fixed hiseyes as it were imploringly. How far away it seemed!
He pressed the pace to the uttermost. The machine toiled up and up; theuproar behind grew louder. He was beginning to despair. The cycleseemed to be crawling. Would the engine hold out? At last, with whatappeared to be a final heave, it crept over the crest. The downwardslope had begun, and the cycle dropped down with a rush which carried iteasily to the top of the farther rise. With a sigh of thankfulness Timknew that he had now increased his lead.
At this point the track began to wind round the face of the cliff on hisright. A few minutes would bring him within sight of the bridge. Butthere was still one long climb before him, and here, if the pursuerscould last the pace, they would have the advantage of him. He glancedback; they were just rounding the curve, perhaps a quarter-mile distant.This was the crisis of the chase. As the cycle laboured up the hill,Tim was
aware that the gap was rapidly diminishing. When he gained thetop, he had scarcely fifty yards to spare. But now for three or fourhundred yards the track was level, and the horsemen yelled with rage asthey saw their quarry once more slipping from their clutches. They hadno chance against him on the flat. By the time he reached the pointwhere the track dipped to the mile-long descent to the bridge, they hadlost more than a hundred yards.
The bridge was not yet in sight. The track bent to the left somewhatsharply. In ordinary circumstances Tim would now have clapped on thebrakes, but he was strung up to attempt any feat of daring, and afterthe first hundred yards of the hill he contented himself with closingthe throttle. He swung perilously round the bend, and looking ahead,saw the bridged ravine three-quarters of a mile away. A horseman wasgalloping towards it--doubtless one of his vedettes. But why was hedashing so desperately towards the bridge?
Tim lowered his eyes, for he wore no goggles, and the wind created byhis pace made them smart and tingle. He was halfway down the slope whena dull report below him caused him to look up again. Where, a fewseconds before, the bridge had been, there was now a cloud of smoke.His orders had been carried out only too thoroughly: the bridge wasblown up!
He was thunderstruck. Reckless and impulsive as he was, prone to playmany a mad prank on his bicycle, he had never attempted such a feat asnow, in the twinkling of an eye, he saw himself committed to. The ravinewas more than thirty feet across. He would reach it in half a minute.No power on earth could check his descent. He must either plunge intothe chasm, fifty feet deep, or leap the gap.
How can his sensations be described! Every second his speed wasquickening. The steepness of the slope induced the feeling that he wasdropping into space. He was conscious of the strange heaving sensationthat a person feels on descending in a rapidly-moving lift. His bodyseemed to be flying upward. The air rushed past, scarifying his flesh,catching his breath, stunning his ears so that he did not hear thereport of a dozen rifles across the gap. Down, down, faster than anexpress train, as fast as a racing motor-car, his body rigid, his mindworking swifter than the electric flash--down to he knew not what.
On either side of the bridge the ground had been cleared. He must avoidthe ruins of the bridge; he would steer to one side of it. As heswooped meteor-like towards the gap the space on his right widened out,and the ground made a slight ascent to the brink of the ravine. A touchon the handle-bar altered his course a point or two. Barely consciousof the rise, breathless and dizzy, he shut his eyes at the fatefulmoment--and the machine shot off the brink of the ravine like a stonefrom a catapult. For a fraction of a second he was in mid air, thewheels whirring beneath him. Then there was a tremendous thud as theystruck the ground 011 the opposite side. The machine raced up theincline; the speed slackened; instinctively he applied the brakes; andin a few more seconds he fell rather than jumped from the saddle, anddropped panting, a mass of quivering nerves, upon the track.
A group of Japanese flocked about him. One gave him water from a mug.All were trembling with excitement. When he had collected himself, andinquired what had become of the pursuers, he learnt that, as they rodeheadlong down the hill behind him, two of the horses had slipped andbrought their riders to the ground. The rest had reined up at thevolley from the Japanese. Apparently none had been hit, but recognisingthat further pursuit was hopeless, they had stood watching the last fewhundred yards of the cycle's flashing course. The Japanese had been toomuch amazed and alarmed to fire again. Both the parties looked on as ata thrilling spectacle. After the cycle had made its leap their amazementheld them motionless for a while. Then, at a second volley, the enemywheeled round and galloped away.
Tim asked why the bridge had been fired. The vedette explained that,descrying the heads of a large number of horsemen over the tops of thebushes on the crest of the hill, he had dashed back to give the alarmaccording to orders. The cycle, being lower, had been invisible to him.His comrades were so eager to carry out their instructions that evenwhen Tim came into view they were too much occupied to see him, and onlywhen the match was kindled, and they ran back to a position of safety,did they perceive with horror that they had, as they thought, cut offtheir master's chance of escape. Tim waived away their humbleapologies; they had obeyed orders; and now that the strain of hisnerve-shattering experiences was relaxed, he could afford to smile. Theeastern track, at any rate, was impassable to the enemy.